100 themes prompt
by Life's a cookie
Summary: One hopes I'll actually complete this challenge meme from MeinBruder @ LJ. A mixture of one shots and possibly short multi-chaptered fics, all in the name of the greatest duo ever: Prussia/Germany. Ratings may change accordingly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Well, I've somehow found the time to write a Hetalia fic for my favourite pairing. I was wandering about MeinBruder on Livejournal and came across the numerous prompt lists. Decided to pick the 100 themes gig. So, for now, the stories may be one shots or some may be linked together. I'll give notice, but in all likelihood, I won't be posting them in any particular order. According to the rules, I've the freedom to jump about the prompts ;3 So, aye. Here we go.

**100 Themes Meme from MeinBruder LJ**

**11. _Memory_**

**Title: The Unfortunate Mutilation of Lullabies**

**

* * *

**

_He felt those revolting hands grip his hipbones, another pinning his wrists against the wall. Normally, that was hardly enough to hold him in place but 'normally' had long become a distant concept. Here, a great nation could be reduced to nothing, worn down to the core, far too tired, too broken to contemplate any former glory. What happened behind the iron curtain was out of the Allies' sight, and so, not of their concern. What they didn't know, they could not change. And he knew that the rat bastard pressing up against him was well aware of the fact. _

_Once upon a time, he would have snarled, twisted and struggled against the taller man. Once upon a time, he would have rained down a litany of profanities on his captor, would have had enough strength left in him to squirm around and at least knee the sonofabitch some place where the sun didn't shine. _

_He growled feebly as his face was shoved brusquely against concrete. He wanted to lash out at the touch of the motherfucker's lips as his earlobe was nipped at with mock tenderness; at the rough fingers that curled and tugged at his hair sharply. _

_But he couldn't. He had no strength left. _

_And it frustrated him. _

"_Do you think of him when I touch you, my little East?" He ground his teeth at the pain that lanced through him as the bruises were crushed under the vice grip. _

"_Do you even think he'd want you anymore?" He squeezed his eyes shut as images of his brother flittered across his mind, wishing them away. "You're such a whore. Is this what the 'Great Prussia' actually is? Nothing but a whore?"_

_He had raged against being called that once, in the beginning. And he had been back handed hard enough that stars exploded in his vision for his effort. But it had been worth it, to feel once more the power in defiance. _

_However, time had seen to the removal of little pleasures even as rudimentary as that. He could no longer afford to get hurt unnecessarily. Every bit of energy was needed if he was going to survive this damned proxy war. And he was going to live through it; he was going to fucking get past this so that he would one day see his little brother again. So that in time to come, he'd be able to forget this fucking blot in history and simply have it as another addition to his arsenal which he could use to guilt trip his brother into getting him whatever the fuck he wante –_

_Despite how he thought he'd pretty much lost his voice, how he believed his body too beaten and tired to react, he screamed. He had been caught too off guard to choke it down in spite of how he should have gotten used to it by now. The bloody intrusion hurt like a bitch and he felt that being shot by a firing squad would have been preferable to the disgusting sense of violation he still could not get over as his body was rocked back and forth by the incessant pounding. _

_His head was yanked forcefully up and jerked to the left, and the guttural command to 'open your eyes and look at the fucking mirror, little East' could not be ignored. With reluctance, he saw in the reflection a near emancipated figure being fucked raw, thin arms quaking in exhaustion, sweat glistening on his skin, pale hair clinging in clumps over dulled crimson eyes. His head hung in defeat as he averted his gaze, unable to bear with what he had become. But Russia wasn't about to allow him that much._

_His eyes flew open and a mangled, hoarse cry ripped from his throat as the larger man pulled almost all the way out before slamming in again with one brutal thrust. In the reflection, he saw that sadistic, eerie smile – _

"GILBERT!"

"Verdammt, Gilbert! Wake up!"

Glazed crimson eyes flickered up, hazily taking in the figure looming over him. With a raspy yelp, he pushed the blonde away, or attempted to in any case. He needed to get rid of whatever was holding him down, away from bloody Ivan. The sheets that he had tangled himself in wrapped itself even tighter around his trashing limbs, leaving Gilbert in a struggling, panting mess.

Ludwig shifted his weight to lean on his left arm once his brother had pushed against him weakly. He watched on, the sick feeling growing inside him, as the platinum haired man whimpered and made those little hysterical sounds he never thought he'd hear from the proud man as he fought to be free from the covers. Clenching his fist, Ludwig sat up properly and moved closer to his brother, slowly this time. Cautiously, like he would with a wounded animal (the very comparison making his gut clench), the blonde gently touched his brother's forearm, reddened with scratch marks and made short work of the sweat soaked covers. Flinging it briskly off the bed, Ludwig backed off a little, giving Gilbert some space.

The absence of the restraints finally registering in his fogged mind, Prussia slowly curled up on himself, knees to his scrawny chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. His red eyes were wide, and his breathing erratic.

"Gilbert?' Ludwig called softly.

The baritone that was unmistakable of his little brother, the only one who would ever address him that gently, the only one he would ever allow to do so, seemed to wiggle its way through to him.

"Bruder? Bruder, it's West." Ludwig's hand twitched with the desire to reach out to the other nation.

Closing his eyes, brows furrowed, he tried again.

"It's Ludwig, bruder."

Gilbert blinked, clarity gradually returning to his eyes, the brightness seeping back to the startling crimson irises. His breathing evened out, no longer the heaving gasps of a drowning man. His platinum mop of hair turned to face the blonde.

"L-Ludi?" He whispered.

Ludwig's eyes softened, relief stark on his face.

"Ja, bruder. Ja," Germany breathed.

Pale, bony fingers hesitantly edged towards the younger man's. Gingerly, Gilbert stroked the large, powerful hand; feather light touches that turned into firmer yet tender caresses.

"Was… was just a nightmare?" He muttered. Jerkily, he raised his head and looked into ocean blue eyes with startling honesty. Ludwig wished fervently then that his brother would give him a smirk, a mischievous twinkle to his eye. Anything other than the almost childlike look of bewilderment. Never, never again, he swore to himself, would he berate Gilbert for being an arse, never again would he entertain the notion of socking his older brother in the face when he gave him that trademark, asinine smirk of his.

"I'm not …I – the wall. Gone? Not with… with Braginski anymore, ja?"

"Ja, Gil. Ja, it's over. You're with me now." Ludwig shuffled forward on his knees and took his brother's other hand in his, raising it to his cheek.

Gilbert rubbed a clammy thumb just below Ludwig's jaw line.

"You're real." He murmured, a tiny smile playing on his lips. Ludwig didn't respond, he couldn't respond. The blonde simply leaned forward, touching his forehead to Gilbert's. He brought his arms around the slighter frame, holding his brother against his chest. Ludwig ran his hand up and down his brother's spine in a bid to soothe the sudden tension to the contact.

Gilbert allowed himself to relax into the embrace, exhaustion gnawing at him from inside. Thin arms snaked up to his brother's broad shoulders, feebly pulling him to a more upright position.

Ludwig could feel the wetness seep into his shirt as Gilbert buried his head into the crook of his neck. But he knew his brother better than to comment on it. Saying anything was to acknowledge that Gilbert was indeed crying, and Ludwig didn't want to imagine how the man would handle the fact that he had been so vulnerable and weak. His brother squirmed a little, ruffling his already mussed hair as he pressed himself closer to him, trying to get as snug as he could against Ludwig's large, warm presence. Ludwig ran a hand through his brother's platinum hair, idly playing with the ends that curled at the nape of the neck.

Slowly, Ludwig leaned back, transferring his weight backward till the two tipped back onto the mattress. Gilbert molded himself to his younger brother, his smaller stature fitting perfectly with his sibling. Ludwig pressed a soft kiss into his brother's messy excuse for hair and ran the back of his hand tenderly against Gilbert's cheek.

"I'll be right back." He said quietly into Gilbert's ear. His brother loosened his hold on Ludwig's shirt and let the blonde pad across the room. He heard the distant sound of a faucet being turned and then the mattress dipped to his left. The large warm weight was returned and Gilbert ensconced himself in it again.

Ludwig balled up a damp face towel and pulled away just enough to gingerly dab away the dried tear tracks.

"You're such a mother hen, Ludi." Gilbert managed gruffly.

The blonde didn't miss a beat, continuing with his ministrations. Inside though, Ludwig felt a faint flicker of hope tickling his senses. Snide remarks, however weakly delivered, were always a good start.

"It's just sweat. It's crazy hot in here." Gilbert murmured faintly, a little frown marring his features.

They both knew it was a lie. Ludwig knew for a fact that the air conditioner was set to eighteen degrees Celsius and that was pretty damn chilly; especially so once the machine was given time to warm up. Gilbert had used to complain about his awesome self requiring cool climates and had promptly commandeered the controller in the past. Ludwig had simply gotten used to it and had automatically continued to set it at that temperature in spite of his gnawing conscience telling him he was killing the earth.

Ludwig chose not to raise the point about the temperature.

He then produced another towel, presumably soaked in warm water this time and proceeded to give a general clean of Gilbert's face.

"I can't imagine it being comfortable for you otherwise." Ludwig remarked levelly.

When the blonde finally stopped, he was met with unreadable crimson eyes. Gilbert wordlessly plucked both towels from large hands and tossed them over Ludwig's shoulder. The younger man blinked owlishly before a tentative smile formed.

He shuffled over to retrieve the fallen covers and tugged it over the both of them. He then scooted closer to his older brother and wrapped his arms protectively around him. Ludwig tucked Gilbert's head under his chin and smoothed the wild hair with his fingers in a soothing motion.

"I fucking hate that rat bastard, Ludi." Gilbert's voice was muffled against the crook of his neck but Ludwig heard him fine.

Germany tightened his embrace and scowled into the darkness.

"He will never touch you again, Gil. Never again," Ludwig said through gritted teeth, trying to reign in the sudden flare of rage. "Or I will fucking end him and – and his band of bloody matryoshka loving minions."

Ludwig started when he felt the body next to him shaking.

"G-Gil?" He stumbled from outrage to trepidation. "Bruder? I'm sorry. I – We'll switch topic, then."

A bony hand crawled out from where it had been squished between the two bodies and patted a muscular arm lightly.

"N-No. It's alright, West." It took a moment for Ludwig's addled mind to register the mirth in the voice. "It's just funny. The awesome me feeling all warm and shit as my little brother swears vengeance. This is so fucked up. I'm too awesome to be… yearning for this mushy crap." Gilbert chuckled wryly, his voice tapering off at the end in shame.

"Although, I doubt anybody would be appreciative of having a third world war just yet, West." The older brother followed up quickly before the other man had the time to form a reply.

Neither of them bothered to dignify that with a response. Their partiality for wars had significantly diminished; the repercussions of the last one still fresh and all too raw and painful.

"Are you tired yet?" Ludwig finally broke the silence.

"Yes." Gilbert said into the blonde's shirt. "But I can't sleep."

Ludwig knew it was more likely that Gilbert didn't want to go back to sleep and possibly face more unwanted memories but was too proud to admit such a fear.

"Bruder, just try. Please?"

Gilbert opened his mouth to say something but Ludwig beat him to it.

"I'm right here, Gil." He lowered his head, pressing an unhurried kiss against Prussia's lips.

"I'll always be here."

For once, Gilbert didn't make any caustic remark to kill the contented lull in the air and for that, Ludwig was grateful.

His older brother was silent, his breathing slowing as he rubbed little circles on the slight shoulders. Ludwig could tell the other was still wide awake despite attempting to succumb to sleep.

The blonde's mind wandered through his memories, wading through the many years to recall the times when he was still a little nation, barely reaching his brother's waist. He fought to remember what his brother had done to get him relaxed enough to fall asleep.

And then it hit him.

Gilbert had honestly given in to his brother's sappy words, though an old, buried part of him was tempted to tell the blonde off for turning into such a wuss despite his awesome mentoring. But that part was just a tiny portion of him now; it had been beaten into a far corner of his mind during his years behind the iron curtain. He fidgeted, he forced himself to blank his mind and let his breathing fall into a steady pattern but nothing worked. He was still too wary of meeting Braginski in his mind again.

He had squeezed his eyes shut and loosened the tension in his shoulders when he heard it. It began as a rumbling from the chest he had pressed himself up against and then continued into a stream of… what he supposed could be called singing. It was a little off tune at times and just a mite screechy at the high notes.

Gilbert balked when he processed all of this. It was singing, an untrained voice. He focused hard on the words, forcing his concentration away from the pleasant hum of the voice reverberating from the warm body beside him to discern them.

" …Danac lasst uns alles streben, Brüderlich mit Herz und Hand! Einigkeit und Recht und Freiheit – "

"West, Was zum Teufel." Gilbert's hoarse voice interjected serenely. "Why the hell are you singing our anthem?"

Ludwig swallowed loudly. Hesitant. And possibly embarrassed.

"Er…"

"I know you're patriotic but at least leave that for mornings, ja?"

"Iwastryingtosingyoualullaby."

"What?" Gilbert wiggled out of the little, warm cocoon he had made for himself using the covers and his brother, to stare at the increasingly panicky face.

"I was trying to sing you a lullaby."

Ludwig was blushing, horribly so, and was deeply thankful that the darkness hid its obviousness. He had begun to fret as he had taken each mental step closer to opening his mouth and attempt Operation Serenade, and that led to his brain working on overdrive and the eventual demise of any rational thought. His brain had then so thoughtfully decided to shut down on him, leaving him high and dry.

"A-a lullaby. What the hell happened to stuff like Nachtgesang 'O gib, vom weichen Pfühle'?"

Ludwig huffed, pausing. "Yes, well… Yes, that _would_ have been better."

"No shit, Captain Obvious."

Ludwig scowled. "You've spent too much time with Herr Jones."

"No, no, _I _did not. _You, _on the other hand, did. I bet your mind has been mushed around during those decades without my awesome presence, and having to mingle with Bushy Eyebrows and Loudmouth. I bet they toyed with your mind and made you forget all that is sacred to us Germans."

"Lullabies? Lullabies are sacred to us? That's new. I'll be sure to tell that to our cultural board tomorrow."

Gilbert snorted.

"Bruder, if this is your roundabout method of getting me to say I missed you, I'll save us both the time and just say it, ja?" Ludwig brushed kisses over his brother's closed eyes and the tip of his nose, his voice faint, "_I missed you._"

Gilbert worried his bottom lip, and then ducked his head back into the crook of Ludwig's neck.

"Just sing 'Weißt du wieviel Sterlein stehen', Ludi."

The blonde sighed, but obliged nonetheless.

Having made himself comfortable, wrapped around his brother, Ludwig sang.

"Weißt du, wieviel Sternlein stehen  
An dem blauen Himmelszelt?  
Weißt du, wieviel Wolken gehen  
Weithin über alle Welt?  
Gott der Herr hat, sie gezählet,  
Daß ihm auch nicht eines fehlet  
An der ganzen großen Zahl,  
An der ganzen großen Zahl…."

The blonde tapered off as he felt his brother's breathing even out and the smaller body go boneless as was wont to happen. With a smile, he brushed his hand through platinum locks once more before cuddling beside him and whispering:

"_Ich liebe dich wie verrückt."_


	2. Chapter 2

**14. _Smile_**

**Title: Smile for Fluff, Good Sir?**

* * *

Ludwig worries. Perhaps much more than would be considered healthy for any human being; except he's _not_ entirely human. More a personification than anything. But as Gilbert had chided him incessantly for in the past (nobody mentions that _time_ in the House of Germany anymore, not unless strictly necessary and even then only ever out of the platinum blonde's hearing), it was still much too much and a giant pain in the a –

But he knows there is more than cause to worry. It cannot be stifled as he watches his brother slink around the house, like a shadow of his former self; once piercing red eyes having become reduced to a dull, often dilated maroon as they stare into space, seeing things a thousand miles beyond the horizon.

Yet, what disturbs him most is the lack of that one single expression that used to be a permanent fixture on that handsome face.

At the start, right after their reunion, Ludwig had thought he'd seen it – drawn out separation blurring his perception, his understanding of what he'd known so well about his brother. The smile on the soot covered, tear stricken, _gaunt_ face had as good as destroyed whatever grey clouds that lingered in the sky that day; a roaring echo of the joyous relief of his people he'd felt thundering in his heart as the wall came down. But as the days passed and weeks bled into months, Ludwig had finally realized that what he'd seen, what he'd been _seeing_ fade day by day was a wrangled bastardization of Prussia's patented smile (_smirk. _Smug as ever).

Until it disappeared altogether.

It didn't matter what Ludwig said, or tried to do: buying and cooking all the favorites of his brother, getting them both drunk, taking the elder out on pub crawls… In a moment of rash, drunken stupidity, he'd even attempted to tickle the man (as Italy had suggested when the two had met for a United Nations meeting) and yes, it had garnered a reaction, not even the _tor_ – could take the innate sensitivity away. But it wasn't anything akin to what Ludwig had been striving for. His older brother had flinched, _badly_, his eyes uncharacteristically sober (only later did Ludwig realize that Gilbert had barely touched his drink and that much of the alcohol had been consumed by him instead – as it was increasingly becoming the new norm) as he firmly, though not unkindly, wrapped a bony hand around his wrist and pushed it away. A flash of contrition flickering across his face, Prussia had gently combed his fingers through soft, gold locks, mussing it from it's neat arrangement before getting up and walking out of the kitchen.

Ludwig had buried his head in his hands right after and if the reason his face had felt… starched, the next morning had been due to tears… well, he wasn't about to proclaim it to the world.

_-xxx-_

Nights were… a challenge in its own right. Germany had yet to decide if he preferred it to daylight nowadays. Most nights were uneventful – painfully quiet, the silence ironically ringing louder in his ears than artillery fire – but otherwise uneventful. Gilbert was content in huddling himself under the covers and drifting off into restless sleep.

And then there were the nights that frayed Ludwig's nerves and made him wish it were just a part of _his _own nightmares.

At times, Gilbert would wake up screaming, or continue dreaming, caught in a hell borne entirely in his head. Ludwig, light sleeper that he was, practically leapt out of bed when he'd first experienced such an incident with his brother. Trying to wake him, calm him down and make him remember that his reality was with his little brother now, not with the smug Russian bastard over in the East was the hardest part. Some nights, Ludwig felt his heart getting shredded, an agonizing ache in his chest as he watched his brother struggle to believe his words, to recall where he was. Some nights, Ludwig wonders if with every day, he loses his brother a little more, and the pain from feeling entirely helpless against its progression is like a slow, painful burn by fire.

_-xxx-_

It was thus with indescribable, incredible relief that Ludwig witnessed the first genuine smile color that pale face one quiet evening.

It had been a spontaneous decision to enter the pet store, but he remembered and knows the joy, even now, of having a pet to love and in turn be adored by. Berlitz and the others made sure to remind him of it every single day. He'd walked down the aisles, peered into cages, ruffled the fur of eager pups till he stopped at a small, rectangular box by the corner. Cooing and tottering about was a tiny, fluffy, baby chick.

Now, Ludwig was strictly a dog person, never cats (_Never_ trust cats. 'Unpredictable, attention seeking _whores_', as his brother had once hissed) and well, maybe the occasional stallion like they'd had decades ago. But looking at the little critter had struck something in him and before he knew what he was doing, he'd already gently lifted the transparent box in his arms and had made his way to the cashier.

After dinner that evening, Ludwig had called out to his brother to remain somewhere, the living room or something, just not to wonder off till bed time as he was wont to do otherwise. Cocking his head to the side, Gilbert had blinked but inclined his head nonetheless. Sliding himself off the counter stool, the platinum blonde had padded over to the only overstuffed couch the brothers had in their possession.

Taking a deep breath, Ludwig had set to hastily drying the dishes before disappearing to the study and returning with the box hidden behind his back.

In the face of questioning, yet indifferent eyes, Ludwig had felt his courage wane and the hope he'd harbored in the present fade. But the choice to turn away and act like it was all a joke was wrenched out of his hands as the fluffball gave a chirp, then another. And in the quiet of the house, the sound seemed amplified.

_-xxx-_

Gilbert blinked again. Wariness and caution in his voice, his brother asked, "Ludwig, what is behind your back?"

The blonde coughed into his free hand, a flush rising to his cheeks. Sheepishly, he brought the container around and held it out to his brother with both hands.

"I saw him on my way back from work and just thought… you might like to keep him."

"Him?" Gilbert asked quietly, though for once there was a strange clarity to those crimson eyes and his attention oddly riveted to the little yellow chick tumbling about.

"Erm… well, I don't know if it is a him but I just thought that it was likely a him, by my intuition or whatever it is I just thought – I hoped you might like – "

"Ludi, you're rambling. You know it's a bad habit," the calm, quiet voice chided. Ludwig was set to give an answer by reflex but the words caught in his throat as he felt a weight lifted from his hands. Gilbert took the box gingerly and set it by the coffee table. With great care, the pale hands cupped the curious chick and lifted him out of the box.

Watching how mellowed Gilbert had become was like another slap to Ludwig's face.

The platinum blonde raised an unsteady finger to poke at the ball of downy fur. The chick merely regarded the digit with mild annoyance, resistant to the poking, unafraid of those red eyes, cooing when the pokes became gentle petting.

Ludwig hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath till a heavy exhalation left him as his brother raised his head to look at him with a startling tenderness. It started with a crinkling of the eyes, then a little twitch to the corner of chapped lips before a tentative grin danced across stark features.

But it _was_ a grin, of that there was no doubt.

And it was the most beautiful, most _brilliant_ thing Ludwig had seen.

"Thank you, West."

Ludwig swallowed thickly.

"I'm going to call you, Gilbird."

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews are greatly appreciated and adored (lest they be FLAMES). Hope you enjoyed this little ficlet :3 Till next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: So. Exams seem to breed these stories... procrastination at its best, you see. Anyway. This chappie is dedicated to the 3 lovely people who left me a review, **Chibistarr, Deez **and** Ironbell**. You guys totally made my day.

*More notes after the jump.

**Warning: **Very, very coarse language. Like, I went a little loose with it. No offence meant. It just felt... appropriate.

**35. _Hold My Hand_**

**Title: The Greatest Empire**

* * *

"Y-You do realize that this is… supremely… unjust… West?"

Ludwig looked over his shoulder at his older brother who was huffing and puffing and sounding every inch like an ancient ascetic. Trekking pole in hand, Prussia struggled to keep up with the blonde, his stamina horribly lacking.

Ludwig was well aware of this; it had been the very reason he'd decided on a trip to their favorite walking route, its beauty having survived the wars. It'd been decades since they'd last been there. .. since they'd last had the opportunity to. He'd made a week long block in his schedule, telling the humans to handle matters on their own because for that one week, he was not to be disturbed. Ludwig had taken his handphone and any other means of communication and flung it into the deep recesses of the wardrobe.

He imagined that small act of rebellion would have made Gilbert proud.

The only obstacle had been to convince his older brother. The albino had hardly left the house and Ludwig imagined a bit of fresh air would do him a world of good.

Resolved to see it through, Ludwig had braced himself as he'd entered the sitting room…

Only to find the man flipping through their old maps and albums quietly. The conversation had gone more smoothly than Ludwig had dared to hope.

-xxx-

Ludwig packed the necessary equipment and supplies into one backpack and together, they'd set off for Gunzenhausen. It wasn't till they took to the incline of the hills that Gilbert began regretting his decision to go along with it.

Years ago, he'd been the one at the front, leading his little West; not that long ago, he'd have at least been able to keep up with the taller, more robust blonde. What had happened to him, what the fucking war had done to him, Gilbert absolutely loathed with all his heart. The difference between the brothers was more pronounced, and the platinum blonde felt all the more pathetic for it. Ever since he'd grown up, West had always been more muscular, always had more color to his skin, but Gilbert was practically waif-like beside him now. Before, he'd been lean, if not skinny – nowadays, nobody commented on his appearance because to do so would be too cruel.

But he knew what he saw in their reflections. He was fucking emancipated compared to Ludwig and Gilbert hated to be dependent on anything, hated the feeling of being a burden.

Standing a little ways away from him, blonde hair shining in the sunlight, Ludwig waited patiently for his brother to catch up; camping bag born easily and hardly breaking a sweat. There was nothing condescending in those bright blue eyes but Gilbert knew, as he always did – there was a modicum of pity lurking beyond them.

He was no fool.

Gritting his teeth, Prussia tightened his grip on the stick and trudged on with renewed determination, ignoring the faint quiver in his legs and all others signs of protest from his body. Doggedly averting his eyes from meeting his younger brother's, Gilbert shouldered past the blonde, missing the look of concern.

Ludwig held back his comment and followed quietly behind.

And so it went for the next few days, the younger man forcing himself to watch his brother push himself unnecessarily, defeating the very purpose of the trip all for the sake of pride.

-xxx-

Gilbert was about to collapse by the time they reached the midpoint of the route. Every morning was a trial, hauling his increasingly aching body and doing his best to hide the slight trembling in his limbs from exhaustion. He was not going to whine any longer, he was going to prove that he could do this. But prove to whom exactly, he wasn't quite sure.

At noon, the brothers carried on towards Kipfenberg, Ludwig keeping a very sharp eye on the platinum blonde. Gilbert may have thought the toll his act of bravado was taking on his body hidden from Ludwig but he couldn't have been more wrong. Germany knew his brother, knew only too well most every thing about him. At the slightest jerk, a hand would instinctively reach out to steady the man, never quite touching but there nonetheless. Every wobble or slip would have Ludwig on edge and it was slowly driving him crazy.

After a particularly distressing stumble, the blonde decided enough was enough. The moment he'd gotten their bearings, aware of where Arnsberg was, Ludwig settled them on a short path closer to the riverbank – he didn't want to go anywhere close to civilization.

"Bruder," he called out as the river valley came into view.

The platinum blonde continued walking.

"Gilbert," Ludwig raised his voice, jogging to bridge the distance.

His brother stopped at the hand gripping his shoulder, turning to face Germany. "What?" The voice curt and wary.

"We'll make camp here today – "

"It's still early, West." A tiny frown marred the pale face.

"Ja, maybe, but not that early and we're both tired – "

"I'm not."

Ludwig sighed, fingers curling the hem of his shirt. "Bruder, you're not fooling anyone. I know you're tired and it's more than fine. It's understa – "

"Halt den Mund, Ludwig."

The blonde blinked. His brother next to never used his name. He was pretty sure he would be courting death by going on but he had to, he was not going to have his brother hurt himself.

"I'm not going to shut up. Be reasonable, Gil. You know you're exhausted, mein Gott, your eyes are like bloody pand – "

"I'm not FUCKING tired!"

"Yes, you are, you're just so bloody stubborn! The only fucking REASON I suggested this trip was because I wanted to spend time alone with YOU! Because this place, Gil, this FUCKING place is one of the few places from my memory that is still UNTAINTED! Everywhere else I cannot stand, because it reminds me of the stupid decisions I made and all the pain that was dealt unto YOU!" Ludwig hadn't realized he was shouting until he noticed those piercing crimson eyes narrow.

"Gott Dammit, bruder, this isn't some RACE. I don't CARE if we walk slower, I don't fucking give a damn because stuff like that doesn't matter!"

The heavy silence that immediately settled after Ludwig was done gnawed at him. He was almost certain that the uncharacteristic outburst would turn things around, he was counting on it.

Ergo, he hadn't been expecting it when Gilbert hissed, "It matters to _me_," throwing down the trekking poles as he turned to walk away.

He didn't make it very far. A couple of shaky steps and those legs gave way, sending Prussia crumbling into a heap. Ludwig flinched, muscles tensing, a fleeting second from dashing over.

"Rühr mich nicht an!" his brother barked in the voice Ludwig remembered from distant battlefields. Halted where he stood, Ludwig fought against the need to help. But strangely, rather than looking foolish and petulant, Gilbert's slow, agonizing struggle to his feet reminded Germany of wounded pride, of a fallen God of War salvaging what dignity remained.

Ludwig swept a hand wearily across his face, massaging his temple before dropping the bag.

He would set up camp and let his brother calm down.

-xxx-

Tent pitched, equipment left safely inside and not a soul for as far as he could see, Ludwig walked off in the direction that Gilbert had gone.

His brother hadn't wandered too far and he found the small figure huddled by the water. The blonde took a deep breath and approached him.

"Verpiss dich."

Right. Still angry.

"Gil…"

His older brother ignored his presence, continuing to stare at the glistening river.

"Bruder, please."

When red eyes finally shifted to meet earnest blue, Ludwig took it as a sign to continue.

_**-xxx-**_

"Do you trust me?" The question is asked quietly, in that particular tone that tugs at something in Gilbert every single time. He will not be swayed. A brow is arched fractionally; incredulous.

"Do you trust me, bruder?" The question is repeated, no less earnest or serious than before. Gilbert gives an explosive sigh, but inclines his head. No words.

"Then take my hand." The blonde stares at the outstretched palm like it is an insect under his boot.

"Nimm mein Hand." Rich, blue eyes beseeching. Gilbert looks away for a moment, then slips his (so frail) own into the large, calloused hand of his younger brother.

-xxx-

Without warning or pause for objections, Ludwig pulled his brother carefully to his feet and fluidly hefted him onto his back. There was a short, pregnant pause before Gilbert was practically flailing and squawking indignantly.

"Put me the fuck down, West!"

Ludwig endured the beating fists against his shoulders and didn't let up one inch. He headed up the side, walking steadily up the incline of the green hills, patiently waiting for Gilbert to quieten on his own.

"Where the hell are you taking me?" Germany had to grin at the blatant sulking clear in his brother's voice. Having given up, Gilbert had slumped moodily against the blonde, fingers exacting revenge by tugging and mussing the fine gold strands from their gelled positions.

"Just a little higher. We can see the sunset then."

Germany felt the puff of air against his neck as his brother scoffed, and it sent an involuntary shiver through him.

"Stupid, ridiculous sentiment. I take back my opinion of Italy; your girly tendencies have only reared its ugly head ever since you spent time with him. Bad, fucking influence," Gilbert muttered darkly, restless fingers toying with the collar of Ludwig's fitted polo shirt. "You sure you're still all male down there?"

Ludwig gave a little cough, answering with great nonchalance, "I'm sure _you_ would know the answer to that very well, bruder."

Gilbert chuckled, circling his arms more snugly around the younger man.

Ludwig finally came to a stop a few meters from the forested region. Carefully, he knelt low enough for Gilbert to dislodge himself from his back. The platinum blonde plopped himself onto the ground unceremoniously as Ludwig seated himself more sedately beside him.

Neither said anything, their attention fixed instead at the mesmerizing display over the crest of the mountains before them.

It felt like an age ago to Gilbert, the last time he'd ever felt so at peace. He was pleasantly numb and yet aware of everything around him; watching the colors bleed into each other as the sun shone, bursting through the clouds a final time before it disappeared beyond the horizon, the warm, familiar presence of his little brother next to him, seated so close their knees touched. Gilbert closed his eyes.

In his mind, he was taken back to what felt like a lifetime past (and damn if that wasn't the truth) where he had felt the exact same thing. Over a cliff, the sun setting beyond them, gradually disappearing at the edge far beyond, he and Ludwig had stood bathed in the red hues. Still a mere child, Gilbert had taken the small hand into his own and with the other, he had pointed to that very edge and with crimson eyes burning with an endless fire, he had held those large, innocent blue eyes.

"_I'm going to teach you everything I know, Ludi. And then someday, all of this will be yours. Every single living creature will look to you as their god and they will fight for you… they will die rather than surrender you to the enemy."_

Gilbert had hoisted the little boy into his arms, and a part of him had soared with pride when the child looked to that horizon with a deadly sense of determination.

"_I will make you the greatest empire to ever exist."_

-xxx-

Ludwig noticed the look of melancholy that had fallen over his brother's face. And somehow, he just knew what Gilbert was thinking of.

His palm covered the pale, bony hand and the blonde gave it a squeeze. Gilbert was jolted out of his memories and he turned in mild confusion to where his hand was being lifted. Half-lidded crimson eyes watched as his younger brother raised his knuckles to his lips, placing a soft kiss to each one.

"I used to be you, Lud," Gilbert whispered. "The strong, confident one. The one you looked up to."

Germany hated that self-deprecating laugh.

"And now I am nothing. Trash. Absolutely fucking useless, and I will not be the one to drag you down." Cool fingers brushed tentatively against those high cheekbones.

Ludwig closed his eyes, and rose to his full height. Brushing himself off, he walked the few steps to stand before Prussia. With the setting sun stark against him, Gilbert could faintly make out his brother's features, but he saw them well enough – that deep frown when he was being firm, the hard edge to those beautiful blue eyes and the tensing of the body.

Ludwig was perfect.

And here he was, the ruined nation.

"Listen to me, Gil." Ludwig knows how he sounds, knows how fierce he is without even raising his voice. He could only hope that it got through to his brother. "I do not know what else I can say to prove that I'm not lying. But the fact remains that I **need** you. You are _my_ bruder and you always will be. Nothing anyone says or does can take that away. You are the reason I'm still alive, the reason that I can survive two world wars and still remain strong. You are the one, not England, not Austria, not anybody else, who picked up a child from the debris of war and taught him everything."

The sun had faded enough that Gilbert could see all too clearly now, the startling shine to his brother's eyes.

"You taught him to fight, you taught him about pride and you taught him that 'if you got fucking beat, you get the fuck off your arse and regroup. And then hit the bastard when he never thought you could'. You are the one who pulled me out of the mess after those two wars, Gil. You're the Gottdamn reason I've gotten this far."

Ludwig clenched his fist till his knuckles turned white and did his best not to be a pansy in front of his brother, but a stray tear still escaped. Growling in frustration, he covered his eyes with an unsteady hand.

"Fucking hell," he murmured. "I owe you _everything_, Gilbert… You have no idea how proud I am to call you my bruder, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Prussia sat in silence, looking up at Germany with an unreadable expression. With a soft sigh, he stumbled to his feet and ambled over to his brother. Firmly, he pried away both hands from the man's face and coaxed him to bend down a little.

Prussia rested his forehead softly against Germany's, "I'm fucking proud to call you my bruder too, West.".

* * *

**A/N: **So. That's that. I apologize if the German was wrong. I'm working with what I can figure out. If there are any amendments, do point them out :3 For this story, I did quite a fair amount of research for the trekking route _(Altmühl Valley Panorama Trail)_ and still couldn't visualize or identify certain locations. My apologies for having let my imagination take me through the most part of it. The images I could find, however, has made me want to visit Germany even more. Guh. Right, then. Until next time. Reviews are GREATLY appreciated :3


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hullo. Yep. Here's another. Thank you for the kind reviews. They really, really made my day and I'm glad some of you enjoy these pieces. I've tried to approach unabashed fluff this time round but seem to have failed rather spectacularly... Perhaps I'll have better luck in the next chapter. Well, happy reading!

**92. All that I have**

**Title: In Two**

* * *

_**I.**_

Germany is a busy man. His week is packed with meetings and board discussions and planning, and so much paper work a lesser man would sooner drown in it. He doesn't have much of a social life, but that has never bothered him. And never will. It means little to him that he isn't able to get roaring drunk every other night and face the challenge of paying attention at events the day after with a stabbing headache. He is, in fact, mostly thankful that he doesn't have to attempt such feats on a regular basis.

Naturally, there are days where he would very much prefer to stay in bed, where he just finds it such a struggle to get _out_ of bed and have to go through the whole mundane routine of talking to his ministers, his chancellor and fulfilling his permanent date with the folders in his office. The thought of dragging himself away from the warm body he unconsciously snuggles up to during the course of the night is in itself incredibly exhausting and even more of an incentive _not _to do just that.

But Germany is, if nothing else, responsible and hardworking and remarkably punctual.

So he gathers the strength to move himself, and the day begins.

The nation does, however, draw the line somewhere. Nobody, not anything short of a real nuclear threat, was allowed to disrupt his Sunday evenings. The last time someone had been foolish enough to try, the normally stoic blonde had commanded in a dangerously soft voice to bugger off. And that was putting it politely.

The poor man had nearly wet himself.

Every Sunday evening, two men could be seen walking the vast grounds of the House of Germany. The two were about a head apart in height, one of them blessed with handsome features that had at one time in history, been fanatically coveted, the other possessed more aquiline features, not so much akin to the rugged attractiveness of his counterpart as it was beautiful. But there were traces, however fleeting of a savage, feral taint.

The two would stroll through the grounds and venture further past, into the wilds of the surrounding forest.

And if one were observant enough, you might see that their hands were always linked.

_**II.**_

Ever since their reunion, Gilbert has been healing. He has endeavored with admirable fortitude, to project as perfect an image as possible to his easily worried younger brother. It was, perhaps, out of brotherly obligation, that he ground out the perception of being as good as new.

It had been an uphill task at the beginning; his smiles were cracked and garnered a flinch, his attention span even shorter than it had ever been, his laughs were grated and happiness seemed like a distant concept. Yes, he was inexplicably relieved and _happy_ that West was with him again, yes, he was _happy_ to be free of the demon that lurked in the East.

But it was hard to be happy, to take and feel that liberation that formed the very essence of the word.

His little West tried, tried so very hard that Prussia felt guilt at being unable to change abruptly from his brother's help.

West.

Prussia has contemplated this more often than not whenever he seems to drift off, away from reality.

He hadn't loved the little boy right from the get-go. Not for the given measure of love that extended beyond the understanding of 'platonic'. He had adored him as a sibling, as a guardian. But it had been delusion and denial on his part that took him decades to realize that what he felt for Germany couldn't be corseted by that definition alone.

Even such a realization, however, was not enough to change anything. To Prussia, such emotions were for the weak. They didn't deserve a form of manifestation, no outward overtures of affection. Ludwig knew, the boy wasn't stupid, and that was to be enough.

It had taken thirty bloody years to sink into the stubborn head of his, that emotions were not a 'should' or 'shouldn't'… they were just an 'are'. They exist, and that is all. It had taken thirty fucking years (a length some of their people never even managed to survive) of agonizing solitude, torture and abuse for Gilbert to realize just how important his little brother was.

How badly he needed him.

He'd missed the warmth, his unmistakable adoration, his touch, his smile, his kiss, his _voice_… Knowing all of this had lain just beyond that blasted slab of concrete, feeling as if he could just reach out to grasp it; it had nearly driven him mad.

If he could have just… seen him.

…

When he first saw those breathtaking sapphire eyes again, there had been no words.

There had been no need.

…

…

"Bruder, wake up." The words were faint, whispered and soft.

Gilbert slowly opens his eyes, his back feels stiff.

"You should have gone to bed earlier," the familiar voice chides lightly. His vision gradually focuses and he smiles at the tired face.

His Ludwig.

"Come, let's get you upstairs." There is a pressure on the back of his chair as the blonde pushes against it. Automatically, Gilbert peels himself from the table top and holds out his arms. He remembers the confusion in those beautiful eyes when he'd first done it and the surprise when the other had understood. He basks in the warmth of those strong arms that slip behind his back and beneath his knees, cradled against his brother's chest (such a reversal of how it'd once been).

Gilbert wraps his arms around Germany and nuzzles into the crook of his neck.

"I've told you not to wait up for me, haven't I?"

Prussia gives a sleepy nod.

But the brothers both know the reminder won't mean anything; Ludwig will still find his older brother asleep in the study at midnight (or however late it may be) the following day… and the day after that.

Germany shoulders his way into their room and gently lowers his brother onto their bed, watches incredulously as the thin body immediately curls itself about a pillow. He goes about his routine quickly before joining him, pulling the covers over them both.

It's taken Prussia his entire lifetime, but it's finally dawned on him that when it comes to Ludwig, he didn't have to be infallible.

Love was unconditional.

* * *

**A/N: **Hmmm... I think it could've been better and I might revisit this chapter in the future but for now... it stays. Hope you liked some parts of it, at least. Reviews are greatly appreciated :3 Ciao for now, people.


End file.
